Shinpi Naru Mu
by Axinite
Summary: Years go by and people get older. [End of Digimon 02, 28 years later] The Digidestined (Chosen Children) all have their families, their jobs, and a commitment to the Digital World. Meaning: Their lives are never easy.
1. Detective

**Korri:** I've always wanted to write a Digimon Adventures 02 fanfic with the adult characters way in the future where the Digital World and the Real World are combined, so I suppose it's time to start working on my 'dream fic' of the year. This may take a while to complete, but I do hope you'll stick with me and enjoy my amateur spewings.

**Edit(03/21/05): **Since Lithrael has asked so nicely I have taken out the random Japanese (excluding honorifics). It's pretty silly anyways-and I'm honored the amazing fanartist commented on my fic. Bwaha.

**Warning:** If you don't like big descriptive paragraphs go home and don't bother flaming me on the first two chapters you've read; no one asked you to read this story and I definately didn't force you to read through the horridly large paragraphs against your will.

**Disclaimer:** Digimon and all related characters are owned by Toei Animation and not me. So don't sue me.

**Notes:**

_Set 28 years into the future , the Chosen are older:_

_Ken Ichijouji (39); Miyako Inoue (40); Daisuke Motomiya (39); Takeru Takaishi (39); Hikari Yagami (39); Iori Hida (36), Taichi Yagami (42), Yamato Ishida (42), Sora Takenouchi (42), Koushiro Izumi (41), Mimi Tachikawa (41), Jyou Kido (43)._

_The Chosen's Children have their ages messed up:_

_Keiko Inoue (18), Kenji Ichijouji (16), Shigeki Inoue (12), Daiki Motomiya (17), Tsukiko Yagami (17), Akiya Takaishi (19), Eri Hida (14), Etsuko Izumi (11), Nagaharu Tachikawa (13), Jouichi Kido (15), Kaishi Ishida (12), Heita Ishida (10), Chiyuu Yagami (14)._

* * *

**Shinpi Naru Mu**

_"The Mysterious Nothingness"_

You would think being a detective gave you the right to say "I have seen it all," but standing there during the dawn of a cold winter morning, Detective Ichijouji could only watch with a mystified stare as they traced around the corpse with scrapings of chalk against pavement-what was left of the poor carcass, anyway.

It had been attacked by a Digimon while it was still part of a living human being, the most abnormal crime in the world.

_The ADGW protesters will have a field day with this once the media gets a hold of it._

While the group of cops stood around stamping the snow off their black boots and straightening the lines of their uniforms, some attempting to adjust the kevlar and chrome digizoid lined uniforms encasing their bodies beneath thick weather-worn trench coats, the lone detective merely leaned back against a white and black police car. Watching with a disinterested gaze of amethyst set in a haggard countenance, his vision panned towards his comrades before the pouting line of his mouth pulled back into a more hard-pressed expression shifting focus onto the remainders of their latest victim. Apparently a young girl had been taken down by a rogue Digimon not even four hours ago, the mutilated body having been discovered shortly after by a shopkeeper. Yes, they had confirmed it was an organic shopkeeper, as rare as they were in these days; after all, why not take advantage of convenience instead of surrendering your own precious time to do something as petty as open up a butcher up at six in the morning? Most of the American-influenced individuals of Tokyo left those chores up to their servant bots and computer systems designed by the faceless multi-million dollar geniuses of their time. Was he one of those? Well, his time of being Tokyo's Prodigy came and went, the famous household name of 'Ken Ichijouji' fading with the many lives of their older generation. It was quite sad to think of really, comparable to a fallen star, but he supposed living a seclusive life of a crime-fighter was good enough for him.

_"Ken-chan..."_

Slender ebony eyebrows drew together in a thoughtful knot of brooding concentration as the dark-haired introvert barely picked up the concerned inflections in the voice of his partner. Taking a moment for the interruption to finally register, Ichijouji-san jerked his head up to stare into a pair of burnt crimson eyes reflecting the gaze in their emotionless way. Two long ribbons of antennae twitched and drifted lightly in the brisk draft coming from the west as the dim sunlight occasionally slashed it's grudging way through the clouds to envelope the sky above in rays of awakening yellow beams. Not that they reached into the dark crevice of their current position between the looming skyscrapers, but the fleeting light managed to shed some radiance enabling the investigative group to see without the aide of flashlights, even brightening the crime scene enough for the years old detective to distinguish his dark green inhuman friend from the cover of shadows. "...Stingmon?" The cordial response was soft, breezing into the air on a white puff of warm breath before dissipating into winter's lungs.

"You're brooding again, Ken-chan."

The corners of his salmon-tinted lips curved upwards into a bemused smile expressing a half-hearted apology, considering his eyebrows hadn't budged from their furrowed position to enhance the look into sincerity. "I apologize, Stingmon, I'm just thinking..." His deepened voice rumbled in his throat, having left the prepubsecent tones of boyhood years ago (what seemed like a millennia ago). Pausing a moment for any response that may be on the approach, he drew in an icey breath of air and released it in a white cloud of a sigh while leaning back against the modernized car and slipping his hands into the tanned pockets of his trench coat. Turning his head away from his partner to look over his opposite shoulder at the scattered police officers and their Digimon helpers, mostly Data class, the Detective shook his head and pushed himself back onto his feet after the corpse was safely placed in a body bag and shipped out towards the morgue. The removal of the remainders was a sign the crime scene was basically being packed up and moved to the labs; time for the Detective of the case, him in other words, to head off and look for reasons as to why it happened. Of course he was used to the routine by now, having done this grueling job for years.

"Let's go, Stingmon," the gruff order was unintentional on his part, though he didn't bother to do any sort of apologizing as he lurched forward into motion with a sullen and brooding vibe wafting around him like steam from a heater. With his shoulders slumped over and his head low enough for the upturned edges of his collar to brush the lobes of his ears, the sequestered detective maneuvered through the dwindling swarm of Tokyo's finest with a massive and forceful (if needed) Champion loyally trailing after him.

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Thursday, March 17-18, 2005. 

_Questions or Comments?_


	2. Ten no Hachi

"Hey, Daiki! Hurry up back there with those noodles! The customers are growing impatient!" Were the words that constantly rang in the seventeen-year-old's ears as he slaved over a hot stove, breathing in the once-delicious fumes his senses grown accustomed too and registered with unpleasant work. Chocolate brown eyes that reflected his fathers narrowed and filled with annoyance ignited by the relentless nagging as the youth tightened his hold around a boiling pot of water and shifted it towards the sink. Spilling out the liquid clouded from the residue of the noodles, Daiki frowned and swung around on his feet to the other side of the noodle cart's kitchen. Dumping the drained clump of noodles into a colander, he wasted no time in plunking the pot into the sink full of warm soapy water before returning to the noodles that were being prepared. Picking up the colander and gently shaking it to drain what was left of the remaining water off, he balanced it on the edge of the sink against his stomach and reached overhead to snag a styrofoam bowl from the shelf paralell to his height.

"Daiki!"

"Hang on a sec!" The teen called over his shoulder, sounding pleasantly irritated to the man that kept bugging him about the pace he was working while being as respectful as possible for the customers standing by. The last thing he needed wasDaisuke giving another lecture about their 'Upstanding Image' the chain of noodle houses and restraunts needed to keep, no matter where they were or what they were doing. Which made sense, the intelligent boy had to admit, but the idea of having to resort to the old-fashioned noodle cart every weekend with just the two of them working in it was as far from sensible as you could imagine.

Daiki paused in his swift work with cutting vegetables, raising his gaze to the styrofoam cups and bowls turned upside down and patiently waiting to be handed out to customers full of delicious ramen assortments. "Tch, corporations and their damn _images_." Snorted the soon-to-be-an-adult, dropping fresh cucumber slices onto the noodles before grabbing a pinch of spices from a plastic cup positioned to the side of the sink. Looking down at his creation with a feeling of accomplishment, he scooped it up in his hand and turned around to walk towards the front of the cart where his father was standing and writing down orders.

"Otousan." Daiki cleared his throat and set the order on the ledge, shaking his head at the childish grin his immature father was wearing. Why the man wouldn't grow up was beyond him, and he feigned indifference towards the silly adult with a quick turn away from the small crowd of workers. Heading back into the shadowy depths of the first noodle cart where Daisuke's business grew out of, the youth quickly returned to working through the order list. Full of ambition and unyeilding energy, Daiki Motomiya continued to work swiftly and soundly through the lunchtime rush.

Hours passed by in a flash with the occasional blur of familiar faces as they moved from area to area, both males pushing and pulling the cart through the streets of Tokyo, even taking a trip through the older parts of the city where Daisuke Motomiya claimed to live his childhood-something that they would do every weekend without question. Daiki, of course, would passively listen to his father's tales that have been told a hundred times in the years earlier while taking a break leaning on the side of the noodle cart.

Watching the middle-aged man groan and slide himself up alongside his son before slinging an affectionate arm around him and using him for a support beam, the younger Motomiya merely raised an eyebrow and shrugged away from his father's actions. "Otousan, shouldn't you be in a meeting with the McDonald's corporation?" Trying to remind his father of more important matters rather than having to put up with him invading his personal space, the aloof Daiki folded his arms across his chest and stared up at the 'Leader of the Chosen Children' with half-lidded eyes. He looked unimpressed, really, smirking a bit as the old man looked a little sheepish before waving a hand for a response. "No? I thought they were going to pay you a lot of money-you could even go to America for a prolonged vacation!" That was a way to persuade him, mentioning America (where Yagami-san, the girl his father once had a crush on, resided) and an extended vacation from the ever-suffocating confines of Japan.

Daisuke Motomiya merely raised an eyebrow, looking a little hurt from the cold shoulder his only offspring had given him with one action. Drawing his arms back and placing it against his chest, the older version of the goggle boy leaned against his cart while they overlooked the Odaiba soccer field; tt was kept in shape all these years, which was surprising considering the area around it had grown and deformed from the small little neighbourhood into a massive skyscraper complex. Everything was skyscrapers and apartments these days, blown completely out of proportion due to the expanding population...and on the topic of _expanding_, "McDonald's is a fast food chain, and as much of a fan I am of their food, it's not what I intend for Ten no Hachi. I didn't start my noodle cart so it could be a fastfood place someday." He explained, lifting his arms above and behind his head with a sigh while staring forelornly out at the soccer field. As his eyes glazed over in thought, the Chosen of Courage and Friendship could still picture himself standing opposite of an eleven-year-old Ichijouji Ken seconds before the game whistle blew, seconds before that dark-haired boy blazed right past him in a blur of black and green.

They really lived back then.

"Why did you start a noodle cart anyways? You brag about how good you were in soccer every time you come home from a game, and I can tell by the way you look when it's mentioned that you still enjoy the game. Like now, 'tousan," the seventeen year old boy jerked his head towards his father's passing expression of enticement. His words were true and remarkably mature for someone born of the Motomiya line-not saying anything against Grandpa and Grandma of course, or even Aunt Jun. "Why didn't you become a professional soccer player or something?" Tilting his head to the side with a curious look mirroring a certain male in his younger years, the eyes were the only visible difference in comparison to his father since they were analytical and prying, even a little cynical rather than wide and naive such as Daisuke's. He lacked his father's charm, that was evident.

Clearing his throat and shifting a pair of chocolate brown eyes towards his son, Daisuke raised his eyebrows after careful consideration and sighed, pushing himself away from the side of the cart back onto his feet. Turning his back on Daiki and scratching the back of his neck beneath shortened dark red hair, Motomiya-san shrugged his shoulders a little and tilted his face up towards the sky with a distracted smile. "You know how you do things for fun, and other things for work, Daiki? It's like that. I'd never turn Soccer into work, I wouldn't be able to enjoy it after." Turning his head to the side with a casual glance behind him at the bewildered seventeen year old, he turned on his heel and grinned widely, the serious moment gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Now, want to go home? I have a business deal to turn down!" Clapping his hands together and rubbing them lightly, narrowing his eyes and grinning with eased determination, the man pulled his hands apart and gave an outdated thumbs up to his kid before turning back towards the front of the cart. "Let's start cleaning up, and thanks for the help today, son."

"...sometimes I think you suffer from bi-polar disorder, 'tousan..." Sighed Daiki as he pushed away from the cart and moved to follow after Daisuke when a heavy hand suddenly clamped onto his shoulder freezing him in place. Both eyes widened in surprise with a sharp intake of air rushing through a gaping mouth as the boy tensed, not daring to turn around and look at his captivator in the eye. Slowly closing his own pair of oculars and waiting to be either roughly grabbed and maybe even feel the gun pressing into the small of his back right across from an important organ, all thoughts in his mind had quieted down to mere images of his death flashing before his eyes; the recoiling gun, his fallen body, the horrified expression on Daisuke's face. An overactive imagination took the paranoid and sullen boy on an expressway to an anxiety attack-but before it could even start, the one whose firm hand gripped him bent down and brought their face uncomfortably close to his ear.

"Daiki, where's your _Dad_?"

The familiar voice of Taichi Yagami cut through the scared boy's thoughts just as the hand pulled back from his shoulder, the foreign word taking a moment to register before the boy could open his eyes and answer. "Otousan's inside cleaning up, Yagami-san." The boy cleared his throat before answering the question politely, feeling that hand ruffle his mahogany hair playfully before the sound of footsteps carried the touch away to leae him in peace. Sighing after Taichi had disappeared around the corner, Daiki spun around and leaned his back against the noodle cart while idly listening to the two adult males converse inside. Judging by the tones of their muffled voices, they were happy to see each other. '_It's probably been a long time,' _the teenager mused to himself while looking over the soccer field with a bored stare. '_I remember 'tousan saying something about them being soccer buddies when they were kids...and Yagami-san is where he got the goggles from.'_

Rolling his gaze up to the sky and bringing his hands to fold neatly behind his head, the carrier of the Motomiya line heaved a sigh and thought back to the days when he was a kid. He idolized his father then, thinking him the greatest guy in the universe...and when he gave those important goggles to him-'_odd concept, handing down a meager pair of goggles like some sort of heirloom'-_they became the center of his world._ 'I wore them every day...' _the listless thought drifted across his mind while images of him looking at himself in the mirror, positioning them just right, came to his mind. _'Everyday, until...' _as his eyes watered and his chocolate eyed vision began to blur in front of him, the youth turned his head to the side and closed them before tears could fall across his cheeks. Crying was pointless.

Just then the noodle cart began to rock as the two men walked out and down onto the pavement, Daisuke Motomiya leading the way before Taichi Yagami. Turning around and looking at his older friend with that boyish grin being reflected off the other man's face, the two felt like they were back in the golden years again. "So, Taichi-kun, glad to hear things are awesome on your end. Keep up the good work, huh?" Lifting a plain hand and curving his fingers in to form an exuberant thumbs up, he cheerfully waved to the well-known Ambassador of the Digital World before turning away to his cart. "Guess I'm finished packing up, Daiki!" He called to the only child waiting to go home, glancing over his shoulder at the empty street across from them and resting his stare on Taichi's retreating form while waiting for a response from his boy.

"Daiki?" Raising an eyebrow and grabbing a cloth from the hand-made counter of his noodle cart, he wiped his hands dry and set it back on the smooth sanded wood with an accomplished sigh. "Mmm...Good day today, we did well!" Looking over to the other side of the cart to where the younger Motomiya blankly stared at him-no interest at all-he only grinned and waved him up to the front. "Come on, let's get this thing home."

* * *

March 19-21, 2005 

Disclaimer: I don't own McDonalds. >>; Don't sue me!


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